


One Mustn't Interfere

by JennStar



Category: Vicbourne - Fandom, Victoria (TV)
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Forbidden Love, Lord Melbourne being creatively naughty/naughtily creative, Nature, Oral Sex, Romance, The Dismount, Trees, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21415006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennStar/pseuds/JennStar
Summary: This is the chapter I contributed for the story "Matters of the Heart" that you can find on Fanfiction . netBackground: These two have gone through a lot of strife to be together and have been dealing with those old windbags known as the Privy Counsel...you all know why. They're going on a horseback ride and, oh it's just so beautiful.Lord Melbourne has halted their amorous adventures until marriage...but he just can't help himself.
Relationships: William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne & Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901), William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne/Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	One Mustn't Interfere

It was a splendid early spring day; slightly chilly, but not unbearable. Victoria savored the wind that sang across her face as she and Lord Melbourne rode out together, following one of their favorite trails. The pair ventured somewhat farther than they normally would have, so immersed were they in their discussions about only the most inconsequential of topics.

Sky a pure powder blue, clouds patchy but sparse. The deciduous trees – some very tall and dating back several centuries – stood resplendent with newly replenished leaves. Waning sunlight peeked through each winding series of branches.

Victoria dismounted when they happened upon a clearing in the forest. She tied her reins to a thick branch, allowing her grey gelding to graze on the fresh grass. Melbourne glided his chestnut horse to a stop next to hers and quickly followed suit.

Victoria took in her surroundings and immediately spotted a bird’s nest halfway up a wide sycamore tree. To her immense delight, nestled inside was a tiny turquoise and white speckled egg. In all her years she had never seen one up close. She turned and gifted him with the most precious of smiles. He took a quick look and let out a small laugh.

“Do not get too close, ma’am. If the mother notices you, she may decide not to return.”

Victoria’s face crumpled. “What? No, that cannot be so.”

“Such is nature, my sweet. You mustn’t interfere.”

This last statement was laced with a subtle bitterness, and he internally cursed himself for letting it show. But his future wife was too preoccupied to notice any sound save the twittering of birds, the rush of the breeze, the gentle fluttering of leaves in the trees.

They needed this break from all the stress that life had rudely bestowed upon them ever since their relationship drew attention – this peaceful interlude in the midst of almost certain chaos.

Victoria bent to pluck a single primrose, idly playing with its petals. Melbourne marveled at her.

She imbued in him such a sense of renewal. She made him feel at least twenty-five years younger. She moved him. So full of love was he in that moment, his eyes began to mist over.

“Isn’t this place wonderful?” She beamed at him, twirled around several times – and spun directly into a crabapple tree, knocking a few of the fruits from their spindly branches.

“Ooof!” she cried.

Melbourne, terrified, rushed to her side and pulled her to safety.

“Ma’am, do watch where you are going. Just imagine what people would say if I couldn’t protect you from the clutches of an innocent fruit tree.”

Victoria laughed and caressed his cheek. “I thank you for coming to my rescue, as always. But as you can see, there is not a scratch on me.” She started to hum a tune while retrieving one of the fallen apples. She rolled it around in her hands, from one palm to the other.

He wished he could have her painted just as she was: framed by bright pink blossoms and sunshine, a shiny, pale green apple cradled in her hands, contrasting beautifully with her purple velvet riding habit with the floral trim, a personal favorite of his. The finished work would be hung in a place of honor in his bedroom in Brocket Hall.

Victoria broke the spell by crunching down on the fruit, juice dribbling down her chin and onto her jacket. She puckered her face and sputtered, tossing it into a brambleberry bush, narrowly missing Melbourne’s leg.

He would have chastised her if he had not been so filled with desire. His cock twitched, and he grunted quietly. Instead, he settled for a mildly cross expression and a shake of his head.

”Forgive me, Lord M,” she blushed. “It was just so bitter. And sour.”

“There is nothing to forgive. But never, ever feed one of those to a horse. They can become quite ill.”

She nodded as she attempted to wipe away the sticky mess with her sleeve. Melbourne tutted.

“Here, ma’am, let me help you with that.”

Grasping her by the elbows, Lord Melbourne backed her into the trunk of a sturdy English oak. She landed with an imperceptible thud, the bark slightly scratchy against her back and shoulders.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, cheeks adorably flushed. Her breath caught at the beauty of him, haloed by the forest half-light, eyes a dizzying kaleidoscope of sea green and amber. A male cardinal chirped in the distance.

“Oh!” she exclaimed quietly.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a pristine monogrammed handkerchief and proceeded to dab at the juices that were settling into her skin much too quickly for his liking. Then it was carefully folded up and returned to his pocket. If he couldn’t have a painting, he would always have this.

Melbourne brought his hand to her cheek, stroking it with his forefinger, the leather of his glove soft against her skin. Her eyes drifted shut at his sensual gesture. But he willed them to reopen.

“What am I going to do with you, Victoria?” he whispered.

His breath curled over her lips and he leaned in closer. It seemed to take him ages to descend upon her mouth; he wanted to prolong the moment. Then with a short, impossibly seductive growl he traced her lips with his own. They were firm, yet soft enough to tantalize.

Melbourne pushed her further into the trunk by her shoulders, careful not to be too harsh, but nonetheless unable to quell the need coursing though his blood. The scent of her skin assaulted his senses with its unbridled sweetness.

He slid both hands behind her neck, running his thumbs along the graceful column, just inside her collar, against her pulse points. Suddenly, his mouth collided with Victoria’s with an intensity that took her off guard.

He kissed her chastely, with tender restraint, at least ten times, intermittently letting his lips hover a hairsbreadth away, maddeningly. Victoria was almost frustrated by such confusing ministrations. For heaven’s sake, she was not a porcelain doll!

Melbourne abruptly pulled away, raked his eyes up and down her form, and walked back towards the palace.

“Where are you going?” she called.

He turned to her slightly and held his hand out. “Wait here, ma’am.” He swiveled this way and that. Their ‘chaperones’ knew perfectly well to stay out of sight for at least an hour.

An hour would have to suffice for what he had in store for her.

Victoria was more than ready to move on, but the skirt of her riding habit got caught on something jagged. She gingerly attempted to pry it loose but to no avail.

“May I be of assistance?” Melbourne was barely gone for two minutes and already he was at her beck and call.

The pleasant memory of her portrait reveal resurfaced. “_Always, Lord M,_” she thought.

“Well, I seem to be…stuck.” She tugged and tugged at the heavy fabric with all her might.

“Between a rock and a hard place, I see,” he replied drolly. “Let me try to get you out. Keep still.”

Melbourne crouched down to examine the source of the problem. He brushed away a stray twig or two and easily freed her dress from what looked to be a rather large, weathered rock wedged closely against the base of the tree.

He smoothed out her skirt in a sort of trance, caught in the crosshairs of earthy tranquility and raging lust. While stooped down, he spied her stark white petticoat poking out; it had a speck of dirt on it. He gently swiped at it, but his gloves were a hindrance.

As she no longer felt resistance, Victoria decided it was time to see what else could be discovered in the enchanting landscape. “Thank you again, kind sir.” She began to take a step forward, but Melbourne halted her.

“Not so fast, Victoria.”

“Lord M, I assure you I am quite released from my predicament.”

He scoffed. “I would unfortunately have to disagree with you in that respect…ma’am.”

His expression was inscrutable as he swiftly peeled off his gloves, removed his top hat, and placed it on the ground upside-down. Never rising from his position, he dropped his gloves inside the overturned hat and pushed it an arm’s length away. He knelt fully at her feet, fingering the embroidered hem of her skirt.

Victoria was getting antsy. “Whatever are you doing down there?”

“Assessing the damage,” he deadpanned.

“Well I can assure you, that which appears ruined can be mended easily. Skerrett is an excellent seamstress.”

Melbourne could not suppress a smirk.

“Ma’am, if you would be so kind as to lift your skirts a little, I will be able to…check more thoroughly.” She complied, but not without an audible huff of annoyance.

His preternatural green eyes fixated like predator to prey on her newly revealed kid leather boots, their laces tied into neat little loops. Melbourne rubbed a little at a delicate ankle and sighed.

He had possessed her many times: pounding her senseless against the wall in his office at the House; palming her perfect, petite breasts; fondling her heart-shaped bottom. And yet, he was still left wanting.

He should feel ashamed of himself; if not for his lewd thoughts, then for being so blatantly forgetful.

“Are you quite finished?”

_“How impatient she is,”_ he noted, almost evilly.

“A little higher, if you please.” It was a command to his Queen, in the noble guise of a request. But there was a flinty edge to his voice.

Puzzled by his strangeness, Victoria gathered more of her tailored dark lavender skirt and two light petticoats – any more would be too cumbersome for riding – and lifted them a scant two inches.

“More,” Melbourne breathed huskily. She obeyed and he immediately set to nuzzling her inner calf with the tip of his nose.

“That tickles, Lord M!”

“I shall keep that in mind.” His fingers began to travel up her right leg, slipping behind her knee. Victoria burst into a rather unladylike fit of giggles.

“Shhh,” he told her in a warning caress against her fine woolen stockings. His very nerves were salivating with need for her.

Finally, his intentions hit her full force. With a look of barely concealed wonder, she raised her skirts a scandalous six inches.

Melbourne reached above both knees. He eagerly rubbed his thumbs from side to side, where the knit material met her skin, occasionally skimming over the ribbons securing her stockings.

She craned her neck to get a better view as she could not understand what was happening. “William, I thought you said –”

He gripped the circumference of her slender thighs, squeezing twice, just hard enough to get her attention. He huffed impatiently and gave her a slightly admonishing look. “My dear, as we are out here in the open, I am sure you realise we are never completely alone.”

This rule annoyed him to no end. At his age, especially, he should be able to enjoy a woman wherever he damned well pleased! It was yet another barrier to endure, courtesy of royal protocol.

But endure it he would. He had survived far, far worse.

He released her legs and, pushing the skirts so that they exposed her modest cotton knickers, laid his hands over her own. His bare skin pressed against hers still encased in riding gloves, her heat radiating through the supple leather.

Victoria’s eyes grew round as a sudden forceful gust of wind whipped against the thinly covered area between her thighs. She gasped loudly at the unexpectedly pleasant sensation and bit her lip out of habit.

Melbourne’s eyes rose at the sound. They darkened with purpose as he honed in on her slightly parted rosy lips, while his member strained to be released. He would have to remedy that later.

“Yes, please do that.”

“Sorry?” Had she heard him correctly? Surely not.

He cocked one dark eyebrow and could just barely meet her eyes, so distracted was he at the perverse manner in which she was displayed before him.

“I want you. To bite. Your lip.” At her look of incredulity, his mouth twitched with a brief smile. “This time, I’ll allow it. You shall soon see why.”

She complied so fast he had to stifle a laugh. “And do not let go of these, either,” he said solemnly, shaking his hands over hers, encouraging her to tighten her hold upon her skirts. He reached down to lightly massage her mound through the thin material, idly dragging his thumb across her slit through the slight opening of her knickers. His eyes returned to her face. “Or I shall stop.”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He stared her down without a hint of amusement.

Ever the attentive pupil, Victoria did not need to be told twice.

“That’s it, love.” Prying apart the cloth, Lord Melbourne brought his perfect nose closer to take in her essence for the very first time. He sniffed and his eyes rolled back briefly.

Perfection. Soft musky honey. He was at that point in danger of spoiling the moment by ruining the front of his trousers.

Melbourne had had enough and promptly divested her of her knickers by snaking his hands beneath the corset, which had inconveniently trapped the waistband. After grasping the ribbon holding them together with one hand, he carefully glided it from beneath the whalebone structure. When it fell to the level of her lower thighs, he frantically wrenched the tedious undergarment down, all the way to her ankles.

He stared at her reverently for a time, just taking in the unsullied loveliness of her partial nudity set amongst a backdrop of rainbow-hued wildflowers, foliage, and birdsong, until his desire could hold out no longer.

He positioned her legs into a wider stance to give him better access. He nuzzled at the fleshy tops of her inner thighs, licking here, nipping there. He stroked her outer lips with the backs of his long fingers and pried them open gently to reveal her inner folds.

Pink, glistening, unfurled petals greeted him. Like morning dew on a rose. This woman deserved to be worshipped!

The cool breeze taunted her yet again. She hissed with pleasure.

“I do so love to kiss you, Victoria,” Melbourne murmured, inching towards her. She detected a hint of mischief in his voice and moaned in anticipation.

“I*kiss*.” “Adore *kiss*.” “You*kiss*,” he pronounced just above the hood of her clit, slowly dragging his tongue beneath each time, lapping at her tangy nectar. He held her hips more firmly as her body began to wobble on the uneven terrain.

“Does my young Queen approve?”

Victoria purred like a lioness in heat.

“It is my honour to serve you, ma’am.” More kisses, in a maddening series of three, now followed by an expert trilling of his tongue right over her pearl.

She nearly lost her grip on her skirts then, and he pulled back without hesitation.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked with a feral glint in his eyes.

She shook her head emphatically.

Lord Melbourne reapplied himself to his task, which really was no task at all, but rather the highest privilege one could bestow upon him, next to marrying his Queen. And performing that other most sacred of rites…

“You are so ripe,” he rasped harshly. “Like a little peach.” Slowly, without warning, he plunged two fingers into her. _“And a tight little peach at that,”_ he noted with primal satisfaction.

She was sopping. There was no other word for it. As he started to pump his fingers inside of her, her wetness trickled down his wrists and clung to her trembling thighs.

In the background the trees tousled their branches softly. The ethereal essence of violets and bluebells mingled with that of lush mosses, herbs and resins, creating an exotic woodland perfume.

Her breathing became erratic, thoughts turning positively vulgar. She wanted nothing more than to scream like the most wanton of harlots, right in the middle of that pristine idyll. _“Oh, I bet he would like that.” _But Lord Melbourne did not allow her to speak, at least for today. So she clenched her walls against his probing digits while biting down on her lower lip, as instructed.

Beads of perspiration lit up his forehead, and sweat trailed in rivulets down his back and dampened his chest hair. It bothered him, but he was nowhere near finished with Victoria.

“Would Her Majesty like _another_ kiss?”

Looking elegant as ever in his immaculate navy frock coat and amethyst silk cravat, one might overlook the fact that the usually dignified Prime Minister was on his knees in the middle of the forest in broad daylight, creating wet slopping noises as he rammed the Queen of England with his fingers, deeply, mercilessly.

Indeed, he was serving his country well.

For Victoria, there was only Lord M, her most devoted servant, protector, advisor, and constant friend; her one true love, who feasted hungrily upon her body. In the process he had robbed her of both rhyme and reason. Her back arched against the trunk as she grabbed for his short dark chocolate curls with one hand, desperately clutching her skirts with the other.

“Mmmmm….uuuggghhh,” Victoria keened, out of her mind, absolutely overwhelmed by the novelty of it all. And the filthiness.

Who knew a man would ever want to put his mouth _there_? Her Lord M was certainly a man of many surprises.

She panted helplessly through her nostrils. Her lips sorely abused at that point, she clamped her teeth around her forefinger instead. Even the smell of her leather glove was turning her on. How agonizing!

Melbourne abruptly ripped his sodden fingers out and wiped them on her thighs, gripping a softly rounded hip. His wet thumb rubbed at her swollen bud in small circles. He tapped at it incessantly, driving her mad. His little Queen was nearing her peak, he knew.

He blew on her clit lazily before closing his lips over it and suckling hard like he would a nipple. He dove into her, the heady aroma making him groan as his tongue prodded at her slick opening repeatedly.

He kissed her there, too.

Stomach tensing, thighs quivering, she squirmed in his grasp, trying to pull away. That only incited him to tighten his grip. A profound sense of ownership overcame him just then.

“You are so utterly mine,” he growled feverishly.

Victoria’s ears burned at his impassioned declaration.

He gently bit at her exposed silken thigh and she thrashed her head about against the trunk. Pins fell from her hat, knocking it askew, its gossamer veil catching on the rough bark.

“Come for me, my beauty,” he murmured, totally fixated on her engorged pearl. He let out the most base, urgent, guttural noise she had ever heard as he ground his face into her wetness. Melbourne sucked on her clit with deliberate precision, determined to make her lose control.

“Let me drink my fill of you, Victoria,” he rasped.

This shockingly rough language was extremely arousing to her, and she soon felt herself unravel as little darts of warmth soaked through her tightly bundled nerve endings. He let out another groan, and it vibrated through her entire being, piercing her soul.

At one final stab of his greedy tongue, a hot, stark starburst of sensation rushed through the heart of her clit. Victoria entered a state of pure rapture. She flooded his lips and chin with her juices as she wailed in total abandon, grinding down on the finger lodged between her teeth.

Melbourne felt utterly triumphant as her surprisingly strong thighs clamped around his head, dampening all sound until her scent, her sweetness were all that existed anymore. He clung to her with his lips and hands, never wanting to relinquish her – his beautiful orchid come to life.

Just as the last spasms of her orgasm rippled through her spent body, Victoria lost her grip on her skirts entirely and they tumbled over Melbourne’s head, layer by frilly layer.

In her fog of delirium, she realised his predicament too late and scrambled to free him. While trapped amidst her petticoats, her legs, and her humid femininity, Melbourne somehow managed to pull up her drawers; they were more than a little damp. He really did not want to leave.

After brushing the dirt from his fawn breeches, he pulled on his gloves and resettled his top hat. Victoria could only stare at him, still slightly disorientated, as she set her skirts to rights and attempted to tidy her mussed up hair beneath her own hat.

Once again towering over her tiny frame, he studied her mouth and sighed. He bent forwards and quite shamelessly rubbed his fully saturated lips over hers, mindful of the fresh marks she had inflicted upon herself in a bid to keep quiet. He also rewarded her for her trouble by rimming the very tip of his tongue over a tender bite mark.

Victoria licked at the saltiness of her blood where she had bitten herself severely at one point, as well as something she couldn’t place. Melbourne raised an eyebrow. When it at last dawned on her, he smirked knowingly.

She was tasting herself!

She closed her eyes, bereft of words. Now she felt beyond wanton; if such a thing existed. He took advantage of her hyperarousal and slipped his tongue in her mouth, tangling it with hers, making sure she appreciated how divinely luscious she was.

Now emboldened by a surge of dominance, he grabbed her breast with his left hand, while his right snaked down the front of her bodice, past her stomach, settling in between her thighs.

“You may belong to the people of England,” Melbourne whispered against her lips, “but this here” – he brazenly cradled her core, pressing his fingers against her little button, stroking her quickly while looking intently into her cornflower blue eyes – “belongs to _me_!”

_"Oh dear God, not again!”_ Victoria’s body quaked, her mind awhirl.

He held such power over her. And she loved it.

“Do you like being corrupted by your Prime Minister?” She nodded incoherently.

He continued to paw at her breast, the gentleman having been knocked out cold by the beast. The pressure of his denial had broken him.

Their tongues danced together. Victoria moaned into his mouth as she pushed her heaving breast into his hand. Melbourne pulled back and bit at a delicate earlobe.

“You will come for me again,” he insisted, grasping the back of her neck, bunching her skirts in his hand as he rocked it against her little nub relentlessly. He placed hot, wet kisses along her jaw. Her lips visibly trembled. He returned to her earlobe and suckled.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you, you became mine. You know that, do you not?” His own breathing was growing more labored. “Your mind; your heart; your beautiful body…” He cupped her womanhood fully and squeezed.

Victoria clawed her fingers through his hair and cried out. He turned his ear towards her mouth to capture every inarticulate utterance. He could have sworn he heard his name in there somewhere.

They held each other afterward, he leaning back against what was now _their_ tree, her head resting on his chest, allowing the soothing breeze to calm their frantic heartbeats.

Melbourne could have crowed at his achievement if his eyes were not full to the brim with love for her. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. Time stood still no longer, much as he wished it would.

“Well, ma’am, as much as I have enjoyed our little…well…” Now it was his turn to look away slightly flustered.

He had tried so very hard to tame his temporary madness. Perhaps he was being selfish, even hypocritical. But today he caught more than a glimpse of the eighteen-year-old Victoria with whom he had fallen so desperately in love. The very same woman who, three years later, boldly defended her feelings for him, to the possible detriment of her reign.

He did not deserve her. But neither could he resist her.

He took a deep breath and collected himself, adopting a statesmanlike air. “The day grows late. We’d best get you back to the palace.”

“Erm, yes,” she nodded, too stunned by her latest carnal awakening to manage anything resembling an intelligent response.

They walked back together, Victoria’s strides considerably less forceful than usual. After a couple minutes had passed without conversation, she felt it was as good a time as any to broach their least favorite subject.

“I have written to the Privy Council and asked for their decision,” she said, wringing her hands together. He looked at her sharply and stopped short.

“Perhaps waiting for their reply would have been a better option, ma’am,” he replied. Victoria looked over to him.

“I need to know now, William. If they are not in favor of the marriage, I will have to further convince them of its merits. I cannot wait to determine their mindsets before it is too late to change them.”

He nodded; she did make a fair point. “You shall have to pick a new Prime Minister soon,” he remarked wistfully.

“But you will help me, even if it is just to provide basic advice?” she asked hopefully, pleading with her sparkling doe eyes.

“No,” he asserted. “I simply cannot. It will not help our case with the Privy Council.”

“They do not know what we talk about when we are alone,” she argued. _“Or, what we _do_ when alone.”_

He didn’t even have to glance at her to read her one-track mind. “I hope we shall not talk about matters of state when we are alone, ma’am,” he said with a teasing smile.

Victoria laughed. “Not all the time, surely.”

She took in their woodland oasis – for that is what it became that day, especially in light of the new intimacies it encouraged. Nature was in full bloom: the grass thick and swaying, animals running about, sunshine warming her face. It had pushed her dark thoughts away. For now…

“I have missed this,” she admitted finally.

“I have, too, ma’am.”

They untethered their horses and Victoria was carefully lifted onto her saddle. She adjusted her skirts and settled in. Melbourne swung his long leg over his own horse and urged it forward. She clucked at her gelding, and the couple started back towards the stables.

Once they broke into a trot, she felt it. She felt it again and again.

Melbourne remained impassive, eyes focused on the trail ahead of them. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

Victoria grimaced. “Perfectly!” she lied. He nodded and they continued on in silence.

“How about a nice canter, then? I shall race you to the stables.”

Victoria gulped but straightened her spine nonetheless. “Challenge accepted, Lord M.”

The horses increased the beat of their gaits. Almost instantly, she bit her lip. If a little moan escaped from her every now then, he never mentioned it.

_“One mustn’t interfere with nature,”_ he mused.


End file.
